


Hellfire

by ProwlingThunder



Series: Hellfire [3]
Category: Gundam Wing, Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Canon GW History, Gen, Kaiju Threat, Now With Jaegers, Post-Waltz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-05
Updated: 2014-07-05
Packaged: 2018-02-07 12:15:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1898643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProwlingThunder/pseuds/ProwlingThunder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt!Fill.</p><p>Duo Maxwell is Not On Board with this plan-- until he is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hellfire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Asuka Kureru (Askerian)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Askerian/gifts).



> Set some time after Drop in an Ocean.
> 
>  
> 
> Asuka prompted me~ "Kaiju getting bigger, mecha science has to catch up! Duo and another gundam pilot of your choice in a jaeger. >:D"  
> Have fun!

Duo did not relish the idea, no matter that it _was_ Quatre's idea.

Giant, state of the art mecha, so many times larger than Deathscythe that his buddy looked like a dwarf in size-- yeah, okay. Duo could handle that. Deathscythe and he had been the unyielding Gods of Death for.. a long time, and Deathscythe needed to retire eventually, they both did, because 'Scythe was held together with scrap bolts and battered armor-plates, and it hardly mattered how much money Winner Corp threw at the project to fix him if Deathscythe was a kitten compared to what was crawling out of the ocean now.

Deathscythe was a part of Duo, and Duo loathed to leave him behind for even one fight, but that wasn't the problem. He was a grown man, he understood he had to have a bigger scythe for the _Kaiju_ now.

The problem, however, was the _piloting_.

Piloting systems had changed drastically, scaled up by necessity. Deathscythe's console controls were “archaic”; newer systems were a full-body movement system, which was... not _fine_ , but alright, he supposed, if they didn't all come equipped _by necessity_ with the Zero system as a mental bridge.

Oh, and another pilot.

It worked for some people. Duo had seen it in his last mission with Zechs and Noin, the suit a yellow-white-navy number with a seven-digit identification code and a long-ass name on file. Rumor was that it had been dubbed “Comet Storm” by the Preventers, for reasons Duo was not going to begin to fathom. He _didn't_ _want to know_. Really.

Because he'd read the information on the nonsense, and the reports. To make it _work_ , to make the suits move, two people were required. They had to be compatible, somehow, though Duo had skipped that part and moved right on to _Zero System_. Which made them share brain space; two entities became one, and they became the suit. They shared thoughts, and feelings, and memories.

Which... no.

Duo's mind was his own; it was his Sanctuary, even when Deathscythe wasn't, and _no one_ had any right to peek in.

But Quatre was right and he knew it. If he and Deathscythe took on some of these larger Kaiju on their own, they'd get ripped to pieces. Duo wasn't going to stop going-- no one was going to _keep him off the battlefield_ , thank you-- so if he wanted to do any good instead of just being a fatality, he had to upgrade.

Which meant he had to get a new suit.

Which meant he had to share his most precious possessions with someone else.

He didn't like it. And he liked it even less when Quatre showed in his supposed partner, soon to be leashed to him through upsetting circumstances.

Though really. The scowling China-man was far more preferable to any former-OZ soldier, and at least they'd fought together before.

Three weeks later, Duo and Wufei suited up in asymmetry. Their suits vaguely resembled the space-flight suits they had used back during the War; when they were smaller and younger and all their things were usually stolen from OZ anyway. The differences were their own personal touches over the black background and the fringe; a tiger-and-dragon up Wufei's whole body, such a ridiculously intricate paint-job that, apparently, _Wufei did himself, that talented son of a--_

Though that was Duo calling the Kettle black. He'd had a pair of rampart lions done on his own, and it also bore a white throat for sentimental reasons, and it was _nice_ to know, now, what Wufei's armor meant, after three failed _Drifts_ and one that finally, _finally_ worked.

The first two had been Duo's fault; shaken, first, with Solo's death bubbling, fresh and raw, to the surface of a conjoined mind, in the midst of Wufei's memories of nice, _peaceful_ lessons as a child. The second, the day the L2 cluster had learned, and forgotten, the name of Maxwell.

The third had been Wufei. His marriage hadn't shaken Duo, though it had surprised him, but his/their wife's death, after-- that had. Wufei's unwilling grief after had been Duo's unwilling grief for over a week.

After that, Quatre had drawn them aside and explained he was going to find them other partners, but by then Duo had determined he _would_ make this work and Wufei had bared his teeth and.

Well. The mechanics hadn't been happy when they had snuck into the cockpit and turned the system on by themselves. But they hadn't blown anything up, and the ratio was brighter and stronger than nearly every other Drift Quatre's scientists had ever seen.

Quatre's smile, after, _knowing_ and _sure_ and just a touch smug, had propelled Duo and Wufei into a sparring match within an hour of claiming their own heads. Duo had forgotten how it had ended. He'd _forgotten_ the whole fight, but the delicious feeling of bruises and exhausted muscles had been enough.

 _Though none of that matters if we don't work well on the field_ , he mused, slipping on the helmet that was _required_ and letting the... brain juice seep out of the headgear and go wherever it needed to go. Being able to be one coherent entity on the battlefield didn't sound hard, not if he had Wufei to back him up. Wufei had been _good_ back during the war, and he'd decimated smaller Kaiju on his own, no different than Duo himself.

He watched him stretch, testing his range of motion, and then climb up into the controls. Duo followed a bit slower, the weird feeling of his braid wound up into a bun and flattened to his head an uncomfortable awareness. But the _suit_ had to be skin-tight, and while the helmet hadn't, they only really came in a one-size-fits-all.

Locked into place a moment later, the Handshake-- and why they called it a handshake Duo didn't care to know-- suffused him under Wufei's skin like skinny-dipping in a cool lake, and he/they blinked into the light as the mobile suit came alive around them.

The Controller's voice came to their ears, two imperfect but respectful views of Lady Une filling the mind's eye. “Status.”

“Agent Chang Wufei--”

“Pilot Duo Maxwell--”

 _Really am_ Duo _now_ , he/they thought, a little wry and a little sad and a bit sympathetic at once.

The part of Them that had been Wufei before and would be again later brushed the same shade that was and would be Duo, clearing the thought away like the ringing of a temple bell.

_Dragons of Death?_

_Heh. Like it._

“Dìyù Huǒ, sù!” “Hellfire, ready!”

Seven digits and a long-ass name on file; two heartbeats and two orphans and two _people_.

One very dead Kaiju.


End file.
